By the Light of the Moon
by holyhael
Summary: 1970's AU: Damon Salvatore has had his humanity off for a good 20 odd years now and has no intentions of turning it back on. In comes Dean Winchester, a misunderstood hunter with a dark motive- and he wants his revenge. In an unexpected turn, something draws Dean and Damon to the same side and Dean intends to slay Damon in the end, but when everything heats up, he may not be able.
1. Chapter 1

**By the Light of the Moon**

**Chapter One**

_1972_, _New York City_

"Deep breaths, Damon, deep breaths," cooed the man into Damon's left ear. His voice was gravelly even in its delicate whisper. "I got you. Everything is going to be alright."

Damon's vision was blurred to hell. He couldn't even make out the concrete on the rooftop they were perched on. Everything around him was a jumble of colors blending together into one. To make matters worse, the man's voice, though Damon could tell by the gentle grab on his waist that they were right up against each other, sounded strangely distant and echoic, bouncing around the cavern of his mind until it was distorted to the point of being unrecognizable as words.

"Damon, please, just breathe, okay? I won't let anything go wrong, I promise."

Damon's shuddering, off-beat breaths slowly found a rhythm as he took in the advice he was being given, though he did not actually know the guy.

Clearly whoever it was understood that being around a vampire whose humanity was on the back burner was not the brightest idea. The moment Damon's mind was cleared and he was back to normal, the man had darted off down the fire escape, undoubtedly to flee. Or at least he suspected so.

Damon, though he tried desperately to make it seem as if he did not, trusted too easily and fell too quickly. He had put his faith in the man. He thought the man was on his side.

Apparently he was wrong in believing so. As the morning sun peeked over the city skyline, which was visible in all its glory from the roof, Damon felt his skin begin to burn and crack. He cried out in agony and collapsed to his knees, all but dragging himself across the concrete and over to the fire hatch. He let out a breath of anguish in the midst of his tortured bellows as his hand cracked into a little glass syringe left on the ground. The remnants of a substance inside caused his left hand to burn at an accelerated rate and he could feel himself weakening much more rapidly- vervain.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Damon had made his way into the shade of the fire hatch. Relief was instant and hit him like a tidal wave, crashing down over him and soothing his muscles in its sweet reprieve of the pain. After taking in the moment of bliss, he wrenched open the door down into the parlor. His thoughts of serenity were immediately overtaken by his craving of revenge.

Sitting on the counter immediately in front of the door to the rooftop was Damon's little daylight ring. The lack of light in the closed parlor made it so it may have been hard to see if one was not looking, but it was in such plain sight that it would clearly stick out to anyone seeking it. Damon knew it had been placed there strategically, but let his impulse get the best of him as he lunged over and snatched it off the table, sliding it onto his finger- which, though it sounded mundane, had become a much more taxing process, as the man had dowsed the ring with vervain. However, Damon was well aware that a vervain-soaked daylight ring was far better than no ring at all. Within the same second, he had gotten himself to the entrance doors. Try as he might to barge them open, they refused to let him out.

And that, Damon realized, was the strategy behind the _placement_ of the ring (as the vervain was obviously just for an extra twist of the knife). It gave him a false sense of hope only to knock him down seconds later.

"Well played," Damon seethed under his breath, his lips curling into a snarl as he searched high and low for the man, holding onto the unpromising inspiration that the man could possibly have locked himself in a parlor with a furious vampire. A nagging thought in the back of his mind reminded him of the man's cunning, and he knew there was no chance he had company.

In a flash of rage, Damon sprinted over to the nearest table that was not bolted to the ground and hoisted it up, tossing it clear across the parlor, hearing the satisfying crack of the glass window. Panting, he leaned himself on the bar counter and scowling at the door. He eventually began grabbing shot glass after shot glass, filling them with stolen booze from behind the counter and then crushing the delicate material in his bare hands, tending to whatever wound was caused before moving to the next one. He'd gone through at least 30 glasses before he looked about an inch to the left, seeing the shattered window. _Damon, you fucking idiot_, he chastised himself. For a solid 45 minutes he had tortured himself inside the parlor waiting for a way out before he realized _he'd broken the window and could legitimately just walk outside through that_. He made his way over, scolding himself for his obliviousness.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

Apparently, the man who double-crossed him had a little witch doing deeds for him. Though Damon's finger bore the daylight ring, the instant his skin came in contact with the bright beams of sunlight, it began to crack and burn all over again, as it did on the roof. "_Fuck_," he yelled.

"Careful, now, you'll scare the civilians… more than you already should." Perfect. The man had returned, apparently thrilled with how his diabolical scheme was playing out.

"Kiss my ass."

"Ooh… feisty."

"Shut up and leave."

"See, now, Damon, where's the fun in that? You seem spiteful enough… you of all should know that it's always more fun to have front row seats rather than to run away before the good part."

Damon's response was a silent smirk. The man had a point- if you're carrying out a revenge plan, may as well watch it all go down. He shifted his weight all onto his right foot, flinching as he accidentally leaned into the light. Playing it off as nothing, though the man let out a small chuckle, Damon casually transferred the weight to his left foot. Folding his arms across his chest, he raised his head upward. "All right, then," he hissed. "Enlighten me. What did I do to _you_?"

The man tensed and this time Damon snickered. Enraged, the man growled, "My brother is dead because of you."

"Sorry, but you'll need to give me some more detail, stranger." Damon flashed a smile so sick that it made the man's skin crawl. "I've killed a lot of brothers of a lot of people."

"Go to Hell."

"Oh, come on, then. If you're going to hold me hostage in a parlor until sundown, at least give me your name. It's uncomfortable that you've referred to me by name while I can't do the same."

"Dean."

"You may as well be a cardboard cutout of any number of other men. A man named _Dean_ who had his brother killed by _me_… I see nothing special about this, honey."

"Dean _Winchester_."

The last name wiped the cocky grin from Damon's face and he widened his eyes. "A _Winchester_, eh?" Damon looked down to his feet for a few seconds then back up to Dean, now completely serious about the situation he'd found himself in. "Dean, believe me. I did _not_ kill your brother."

Dean simply scoffed in disbelief as a response. "And I'm supposed to assume that a sadistic vampire _sociopath_ is a credible source of information."

"Dean, I made it a point not to _ever_ come in contact with your family."

"With good reason, Damon."

"Are you seriously this thick, damn it!?" Damon curled his lips in and puffed them back out to show his frustration. He took a few steps towards Dean and reached out to grab his shoulders when the sunlight yet again singed his flesh. "_Fuck_!" he yelled, cringing and eyeing Dean with pure loathing. He took in measured, deep breaths to slow his heart rate. "Listen, Dean. _I_ never killed your damn brother- which _means_, if you follow me, that there's _another _vampire in New York who's clearly much more suicidally reckless with his bloodlust than I am."

Dean didn't want to trust Damon. Every fiber and bone in his body ached to ditch the notion, which was most likely a bullshit excuse made up on the spot for Damon to get himself out. However, something in the vampire's voice sounded so _sincere_ about his trepidation of the Winchester family… and he _did_ have valid reason to avoid trouble with them- their track record with vampires probably did not seem very welcoming if one _was_ a vampire. Caving in, though his flaring nerves told him not to, Dean let out a long sigh. If there _was_ another vampire in New York, he could use Damon to find it and then put both down simultaneously. "Fine," Dean huffed. "Say there's another one of you savages in this city," he paused briefly to let out yet another sigh. "Where do you reckon we could locate him?"

The Salvatore vampire grinned to the Winchester. "That's more like it."

"Could you please cut the villainous bullshit for a bit and just answer the damn question?"

"You see, Winchester, I really can't. _I_ am still trapped in this god forsaken parlor until sundown, unless _you_ get your pal to lift the witchy-woo and fix my fucking ring. If I gave you answers, I'd end up being nothing more than a dead end for you to cut off. And I can't allow that."

Dean heaved another breath, this one of irritation. Damon was smart- smarter than the average vampire. "I'll be back in a little. Hopefully I can catch Nevaeh before she high tails out of this city."

"Shoo," Damon replied, motioning with his hand for Dean to head on his way. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

Dean let out a laugh at the remark. "Thank god," he answered, pivoting around on his right foot and heading off down the boulevard, leaving Damon in the parlor scowling after him.

Yet again all alone in the parlor, Damon leaned himself on a wall and sunk down to the floor, putting his head in his knees for a minute, give or take, before lifting it up and heaving a sigh that contained a mixture of boredom, repressed frustration, and a hint of dread knowing that at any time he would feel the effects of being cut off from blood. He debated crawling across the floor over to the rotary sitting behind the bar and dialing up his younger brother before it hit him yet again how he was currently avoiding any and all contact with Stefan Salvatore and he was _not_ about to break that streak out of some minor boredom.

Instead, he hunched himself over and waited in silence as the hours dragged on before Dean had finally returned back to the parlor, accompanied by a 12 year-old girl with bouncy pigtails. Damon scoffed, hoisting himself to his feet. He could now stand directly in front of Dean and who was allegedly Nevaeh, as the sun had gone down, but he could still not exit the parlor, as the curse on his ring was useless with no sun and was replaced by a magical barrier holding him hostage. He sighed and leaned against the barrier, chuckling to himself. "So what I'm gathering from this situation is that _you_ still can't find it in your wholesome little heart to trust _me_ even though I've done nothing to you when _you're _the one bringing me strange 12 year-old girlies off the streets of the city, expecting me to believe they're your all-powerful Nevaeh. Am I leaving anything out?"

"Do all vampires jump to conclusions like that, Dean?" asked the girl, staring up with her wide blue eyes first to Dean then over to Damon. The look she gave Dean was of curiosity, but that quickly merged to loathing when she laid her eyes on the vampire.

"Damon," Dean said, brushing off her question and patting the girl on the back. "This is Nevaeh."

Damon scoffed again, triggering an outburst from Nevaeh. With a twist of her wrist, Nevaeh had Damon keeled over on the floor clutching his skull as it burned in pain. "Alright, alright," Damon croaked out between groans.

Nevaeh relinquished her spell with a smirk and a flick of her eyebrows. "Well, okay, then," she cooed. "I can see we're off to a fantastic start." She smiled down to him as she lifted the barrier. "Go."

**[AN: **So, what do you think? Should I continue?**]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Damon took a tentative step through the shattered glass. To his pleasure, he actually managed to make it out this time, rather than being stopped short by a barrier. He extended a hand to Nevaeh. "Thank you, love," he said, his voice low. Somewhat hesitantly, Nevaeh took his and shook it gently. After letting go of hers, Damon held his hand out to Dean, who downright refused to accept it. "Oh, come on, Winchester," Damon sighed. "What's a little friendly gesture? We're on the same side here."

"Don't confuse my letting you live for comradery."

"Harsh," Damon answered, somewhat insulted, withdrawing his hand and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. "Alright then, _friend_," he taunted. "Let's find ourselves a vamp, shall we?"

Now _that_ idea was one Dean was welcome to, though Damon's jab with the word friends made him cringe a little.

"Excuse me," Nevaeh piped up. For such a young, sweet looking girl, she had a rather loud, piercing voice. "I think you mean _friends_. Plural."

"I know what I meant," Damon replied, fairly irritated. _Here we go_, he thought to himself. "I refuse to bring a 12 year-old on a vampire hunt."

"What about a 12 year-old who can do _this_?" she jeered, sending yet another sharp, stabbing pain through Damon's skull.

"Damn it," Damon managed to say, though the pain was so much that he could barely get a sound out.

"Take me with you, Damon."

"She's coming," Dean spoke up.

Nevaeh released the spell and Damon collapsed to his knees for a few minutes. Looking up to Dean with disbelief, he said "Are you _joking_, Winchester? I thought you were supposed to be the hero here, not me."

Dean just rolled his eyes. "She can hold her ground."

"Whatever you say, Winchester," Damon answered with nonchalance. He extended his arms to the sides as he shrugged his shoulders, smacking his thighs with his hands as he pulled them back in. "But when she gets herself killed, don't come running a stake through my heart."

"I should do it anyway, vampire."

"Oh, come, now, Winchester. I thought we were being _civil_," Damon said with a smirk.

"If we're going to find this vampire before someone else turns up dead, we best stop the bickering," Nevaeh said, grimacing at the two men. "I for one find it somewhat ridiculous that I'm currently the only one mature enough to take this on."

Damon dropped the smirk and scowled at Dean. He turned his gaze back to Nevaeh. "Now," he started. "How exactly do you expect us to find this _other_ vampire," he paused for effect. "Without any real lead as to where he is other than little Winchester's mysterious death?" He looked over at Dean who stiffened up at the mention of Sam. "You can't seriously still be on my case about that, Dean. I thought we went over this, damn it."

Dean shrugged. "If you know as much about my family as you claim, Damon," he said. "Then you would most certainly know that I will be on your case for that until there's tangible proof that another vampire is truly here. Surely you could understand?"

Damon rolled his eyes with a small laugh. "Fine, Dean, blame me. I've been blamed for much worse." He took a step to Dean and the two were close enough to be intimate. "But we still have the minor problem that there's another vampire around here _and we have no clue where he could possibly be_."

"I know that's not true, Damon."

"Oh, really, Dean?" Damon asked. "May I ask how you drew _that_ conclusion?"

"You," Dean answered with a small shrug.

"_Me_?" Damon scoffed.

"Yes, Damon- _you_. Something about you wouldn't tell me where he could be since you'd be an expendable end? Sounds like something someone on the hot seat might say, Damon."

Damon sighed. "Damn you," he chuckled. "Fine, Dean, yes, I do have a _half_ lead."

"Better than nothing. Cough it up."

"My point still remains that if I simply 'cough up' my knowledge that I become a_ useless, expendable, dead end _who just so happens to _also_ be a vampire who's surrounded by a tweenage witch and her heroic hunter who both want him dead. Not a situation I want to find myself in, Winchester."

"Then we've found ourselves at a stand-still."

"No, no we haven't," Damon replied. "I can lead you to where I last saw someone who piqued my suspicions. We start there." Damon patted Dean's shoulder and headed off down the street. When neither Dean nor Nevaeh followed, he turned around and rolled his eyes again. "You coming or not?"

Dean dropped a stake from his jacket sleeve and held it tightly in his hands. He lifted it up for a second to display it to Damon. "Don't try anything you'll regret, Damon."

Damon sighed. "You've _got_ to be kidding me," he replied with an irritated frown. "I seriously believe you need to work on your trust issues, Winchester. Might get you in trouble."

Dean glared after Damon which just caused Damon to sneer again. With reluctance, Dean tapped Nevaeh's shoulder and extended an arm to Damon, telling her to go. She did so and Dean followed. "Where, might I ask, are we going?" Dean asked with a hint of demanding.

"Local tavern, Dean," Damon answered, not making eye contact as the trio moved through the shadows. "By the way," he said, looking over to Dean. He held up a hand to show his ring. "Thanks for that vervain-on-the-ring trick you pulled. Little bastard still burns."

Dean smiled and let out a small laugh. "Then it's doing its job."

"Funny," Damon snarled. He turned his head straight forward again. "The place is down this street and up a few blocks. I'll meet you there," he said, taking off in a blur and leaving Nevaeh and Dean in the dust.

When Dean and Nevaeh finally caught up to Dean at the only tavern on the street, they found him still holding that stupid smirk while a man who looked a few years younger held him up by the neck against a wall. "A little help here?" Damon forced out, gasping for air and attempting to break free.

Dean threw the stake which was still in his hand. It would have gone straight into the man's back had he not turned around and caught it, releasing Damon, who fell to his hands and knees, panting.

"Dick move," the vampire growled. "I wouldn't try it again."

Dean scoffed. "You're extremely confident in yourself."

"What can I say?" the vampire said with a shrug.

Dean's reply was his scowl.

"Well," said the vampire, taking a roundabout way to the door. "I should be getting on my way. Clearly I'm not welcome here."

Damon got to his feet as the vampire sped out of the tavern doors. He rubbed his neck a little. "Damn," he sighed. "That went a little differently than planned."

"You're welcome, Damon."

"Oh, right, I forgot. I'm supposed to be dutifully thankful to you for saving my life because, even though we're on the same side, your pathetic human existence is much more precious than mine ever was or ever will be."

"Sounds accurate enough," Dean replied. "Only reason you're alive is because you're of use to me. The second that's gone, I can easily have you dead."

"Ouch," Damon said, widening his eyes. He laughed a little to himself. "I'll keep that in mind then, Winchester."

Dean wasn't nearly as amused as Damon. "Let's just go. In case you already forgot, that damn vampire is still out in the city. And now he's angry."

"What's the plan, Superman?"

"There is no plan, Damon," Dean answered. "We're working on that."

"Well then we have no business going after Fangs out there unless we know we can take him out. In case you didn't notice by how he _pinned me to a wall by my neck_, he's not exactly the weakest choice of the litter."

"Maybe you're just weak, Damon."

Damon whisked himself over behind Dean and within the same second had Dean pinned to the wall in the same way. "Don't test me right now, Winchester. _Not_ in the mood," Damon warned, releasing Dean with a thud. As Dean began to cough on the ground, Damon smirked. "Suddenly it's less amusing, eh, Dean?"

And with those words, Damon was out of the bar. Dean clambered to his feet and walked over to Nevaeh, who looked up at him with her lips pursed.

"Dean," she said, tugging on his sleeve.

"Yes?"

"It's just… Damon threatened you. Surely you're planning to do something?"

"Later, Nevaeh," Dean replied, brushing off his shoulders.

"Dean…"

"Nevaeh, what do you expect me to do?"

"I can do something."

"Kill him and kill our chances of getting the other vampire."

"So what's your angle?"

"We use him," Dean explained. "We get to the other one. Once he's dead, we kill Damon."

Nevaeh looked down and flicked her eyebrows up then back down quickly. "Alright, then," she agreed.


End file.
